


Bugger All, Mate

by putaposyinyourhair



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, But Not A Thing You Know, Drabble Collection, Like It’s A Thing, M/M, Sort Of, rated for F-bombs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putaposyinyourhair/pseuds/putaposyinyourhair
Summary: The one where Lando and Dan are still being Weird™ but it’s because of some things that Lando had not been made aware of.Alternatively: Lando and Dan aredifferentand that’s why they’re being super cringe.Also the one where Angry Boy Lance just wants to feel like he’s enough while Charles goes through somestuffhe’s really not ready to talk about.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Lance Stroll, Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo
Comments: 29
Kudos: 99





	1. What The Hell Is Going On?

“I don’t know what changed,” Lando admits softly as his fingers fidget with the hem of his hoodie. “It was easier before.” Before meaning before he and Dan had become teammates. Easier meaning there hadn’t been this weird tension between them. Lando’s not sure when it became a thing. But it did. It popped up one day like a damn wall between them. Lando can barely look at Dan these days without feeling these weird _off_ vibes. He knows it’s just him too. Because Dan keeps trying to talk to him. Keeps joking around and keeps trying to make Lando laugh. Like he used to. But his jokes don’t make Lando laugh now. They make him almost annoyed. Dan’s own laugh doesn’t make him smile anymore. Not like it used to. It makes him squirm.

He doesn’t know why. And it frustrates him. Because Dan’s a good guy. And he’s probably going to be a great teammate. Lando doesn’t even expect them to have the bond he and Carlos had. But he had expected some kind of friendship at least, even a small one. So why can’t he be in the same room with Dan anymore without wanting to be anywhere but? To make matters worse, Zak and Andreas clearly see it. This _thing_ that’s happening. Zak hasn’t said anything but Andreas keeps telling him to, ‘Just take a breath, Lando, it’s nothing serious, yeah?’ And Lando’s worried it might actually be something serious.

“I— I know what it is.”

Lando’s head snaps up so fast, he’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. His brows have shot up and his eyes are wide as he looks up at Dan. The Australian’s rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand and frowning softly as he stares at the ridiculously bright sneakers on his feet. Lando feels frozen, waiting for the man to continue. Waiting to find out what he means. Dan’s hand drops to his lap after a moment and he sighs almost miserably before he chances a glance at Lando. His two top teeth poke out and dig into his bottom lip just slightly as he seems to ponder something. His dark gaze does this _left-right-left_ dance as he surveys Lando’s eyes. Lando thinks he’ll scream if Dan doesn’t say something soon.

“I don’t want ya to feel awkward around me, mate,” Dan says finally, gaze lowering once more. “But it’s not exactly something I can help.” Lando swears every word out of the man’s mouth is just making him more and more confused. Actions too because Dan’s now staring at him like it’s his turn to say something. To admit something. And he has no idea what it is. So he lowers one brow and does a little shake of his head. Dan’s forehead scrunches but he remains frustratingly quiet. And when what feels like minutes pass by and the man still says nothing, Lando decides he’s had enough.

“What?” he bites out, annoyed and defensive all of a sudden for some unknown reason. Dan tilts his head and regards him rather strangely for another moment. Then, his lips part, forehead still a bit scrunched, and he finally speaks again.

“Lan,” he starts off— and it’s the first time Dan has ever called him _that_ and Lando doesn’t even want to pause to think about it or how it makes him feel— folding his hands in his lap; long, thin fingers intertwining with each other. “How much do y’know about second genders?” Lando doesn’t know what he’d been expecting but it definitely hadn’t been that. The question feels like a slap in the face. He scowls.

“What does that have to do with anything, Dan?” he demands rather angrily. Because leave it to Dan, constant jokester that he is, to not take even _this_ conversation seriously. Dan turns his body towards him a bit and leans in, eyes widening.

“Everything, I swear,” he promises, sort of gently too. Like he knows if he raises his voice, it’ll send Lando scampering off. It probably would too, Lando thinks. He’s seen Dan angry only a few times in the time he’s known the man. But it’s truthfully a scary sight and not something he wants directed at him. Like ever. So he clenches his fists, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, recalling Andreas’ advice. He opens his eyes and looks straight at Dan.

“Like alphas and betas and all that?” he inquires quizzically. “Bugger all, mate. Just that most people are betas, right? Like it’s not really a thing anymore, is it?” Dan’s face twists, like he’s come to a revelation and Lando forces himself to take a few more breaths when he feels irritation rise again. This time, though, it’s like Dan can sense his growing frustration and launches into an explanation quickly.

“I mean, yeah, most people are betas,” he affirms, with a small shrug. “I’m not, though.” 

Lando’s jaw drops. Just a little. “You’re not?”

“I’m not,” Dan repeats with a patient little shake of his head. “I’m an alpha.” Suddenly, all the pieces are falling into place. Lando feels himself almost relax. A sharp breath leaves him.

“That’s why I get these vibes from you?” he asks, motioning between them. “Because you’re an alpha?” Secretly, he’s thinking about how cool it is that Dan is an alpha. Almost everyone he knows is a beta. The only other alpha he can think of is Lance. Stroll, that is. He wonders if most people know Dan is an alpha too. Lando’s pretty sure being non-beta is like _super_ rare. And apparently they’ve got two of them on the grid.

“Partly,” Dan confesses with an imperceptible nod. Lando stills.

“Partly?” he parrots, almost afraid to ask the man to explain what he means by that. Dan’s eyes flutter shut and his face screws up in a way that makes it look like he’s in physical pain. Like someone’s kicked his puppy. Or like he’s about to tell his nephew that Santa Claus isn’t real. _Fuck_ , Lando thinks, and braces himself.

“It’s also because you’re an omega, mate,” Dan imparts, opening his eyes after taking a moment to simply breathe. “And on blockers too. It’s screwing with your senses.” Lando thinks his brain is short-circuiting. Because he’s not a hundred percent sure but he thinks Dan just accused him of being an omega. Which is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. He should be angry. But he’s not. He’s genuinely confused as to what brought Dan to this preposterous notion.

“If that’s supposed to be a joke then I should probably tell you, you’re losing your touch.” He scoffs a bit and shakes his head, like he’s disappointed in the man, and does his best not to flinch when Dan’s eyes flood with something that looks suspiciously close to pity.

“To be honest, I almost wish I _was_ kidding,” Dan tells him, finally looking away and reaching up to run a hand through his dark curls rather awkwardly. Okay, Lando thinks, so his brain is working properly and Dan doesn’t appear to be joking.

So then, that begs the question; _What the hell is going on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure what this is or where it’s going to be quite honest.


	2. Lance And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not able to look at Leclerc’s stupid perfect face anymore, Lance turns his back on him with a disgusted, dismissive noise. He proceeds to staunchly ignore Leclerc’s presence, even as he imitates his father’s nagging beneath his breath indignantly. “ _Why can’t you be more like the Leclerc boy?_ ”

If the days of Lance’s life were a movie, today would be titled Lance and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Except probably not because he’s pretty sure that would be considered plagiarism. Because it is. Plagiarism, that is, but also the suckiest day he’s had in a good long while. And he has a lot of those so that’s really saying something. He’d thought after last year, after Monza and Bahrain, his dad would let up a bit. After all, Monza and Bahrain made Lance a _three-time_ podium sitter. He’d been pretty proud of himself for that. He’s young. He’s got plenty of time to achieve more. And his dad _had_ been proud as well. But that pride had faded quickly.

Which, Lance will admit, probably shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise. His dad’s always pushing him to be better, to do better. And Lance is sure it comes from a caring place, a place of love. But Lance can’t help the way it makes him feel; pressured and stressed and oftentimes overwhelmed. Sometimes to the point of a little bit of violence. Which is why this is such an _epically_ bad day. Grimacing, Lance stares at the fist-sized hole he’s just left in the flimsy wall of Sebastian’s motor home. Something in his chest clenches a bit as he imagines the disappointed look on Seb’s face when he sees it.

“Oh, _I fucked up_ ,” Lance breathes the words out like he’s been punched, dropping his hands and his shoulders and his head all at once. He almost laughs out loud at his own words. Of course he did, he thinks sourly, he’s always screwing up. Even his dad is constantly telling him he’s not good enough. And even though Lance is sure the man’s never actually used those exact words, that’s exactly what his dad’s pushing makes him feel. Not good enough. Like he’s a major screw-up. And the only person who doesn’t make him feel like that these days is Seb. Which is why, lately, he’s started to come to Seb when he begins to feel the walls closing in. Seb always manages to comfort him in a way that no other teammate has ever done before.

Glancing up and eyeing the hole in the wall again, Lance blanches. Seb is going to _hate_ him. With a panicked little noise, Lance turns and begins to pace the length of the room, muttering under his breath desperately as he grasps at possible excuses. He doesn’t get long to do so. The door bursts open with a sharp _bang_ of the door against the wall and Lance’s heart jumps in his chest. Because he really thought he’d have more time. Time to come up with something and also time to prepare himself for that look of absolute dismay he’s no doubt about to see on Seb’s face.

“I—I’m sorry!” he yelps— abandoning any and all excuses and settling instead for the simple, honest truth. He whirls around, wincing remorsefully before he even lays eyes on the man. But it’s not Seb at the door. _Oh no_. Because Lance’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day is nothing if not determined. Obviously, it can only go downhill from here. It’s not Seb. It’s someone who can make Lance’s day about a _million_ times worse than it already is. It’s Charles Leclerc. Lance can feel the anger from before, pre fist-in-wall, make a return as the other man stands there, gaping at Lance like a deer caught in headlights, his gaze flickering between Lance’s sour expression and the hole in the wall.

“What do you _want_?” Lance snaps when he’s had enough of the staring. And the silence. Because Leclerc isn’t speaking. He’s just standing there. Lance’s fists clench at either of his sides again and he swears he feels an angry flush clawing its way up the side of his neck. He swears he’s not a shitty person. It’s not Leclerc himself that pisses Lance off so. Although, Lance will be the first to admit that he’s never been the guy’s biggest fan. No, it’s what Leclerc represents. _Perfection_. In everybody’s eyes. It’s ridiculous. It’s like Leclerc can do no wrong. Even when he actually does wrong! He’s constantly messing up and yet everyone continues to worship him. Including Lance’s dad.

Not able to look at Leclerc’s stupid perfect face anymore, Lance turns his back on him with a disgusted, dismissive noise. He proceeds to staunchly ignore Leclerc’s presence, even as he imitates his father’s nagging beneath his breath indignantly. “ _Why can’t you be more like the Leclerc boy?_ ” 

Scowling, he glances at the hole in the wall once more and debates putting his other fist through it. Maybe it’ll actually go through the whole thing this time and he’ll feel some kind of satisfaction. Probably not though. “ _Nothing I do’s good enough,_ ” he mutters bitterly. And Leclerc must not be used to being ignored because instead of taking the hint and _going away_ , he speaks. Riling Lance further.

“I was looking for Seb. Have—“

Lance turns only just slightly and glares at Leclerc out of the corner of his eye so sharply that Leclerc probably thinks better of whatever he’s about to say and immediately stops talking. His eyes widen a little and Lance isn’t absolutely sure but it seems like he takes a small step back. Good, Lance thinks, hopefully he’ll take a couple hundred more and leave. But he doesn’t. He just continues to stand there like an idiot, watching Lance like he thinks any sudden moves might set Lance off. Lance can feel his control start to snap. He doesn’t _think_ he has anger issues. Sure, sometimes he lets it get the better of him. But doesn’t everyone? At some point.

But there’s just something about Charles Leclerc that grates on his nerves. Maybe he resents the guy for making Seb feel a little sad sometimes. Well, he’s not sure if it’s Leclerc specifically but sometimes he’ll see Seb spot the other boy and Seb’s face will cloud over with this strangely hurt look. Most people would assume it’s just the sting of being dropped by Ferrari. But Lance sees that same look in the man’s eyes when Leclerc comes around looking for him. And Leclerc’s _always_ around looking for him. Like now, for example. He’s like a puppy nipping at the heels of its new owner. An extremely annoying, overachieving puppy, that is.

“Will you _go_ away?” Lance spits in a way that he hopes makes it crystal clear that’s it’s not a request. It’s more like a warning. Because he’s sure if Leclerc doesn’t leave in the next five minutes, there’s going to be another fist-sized hole in the wall of Seb’s motor home.

“Nobody has time for your whiny bullshit today,” he adds on pointedly. The jab seems to stun Leclerc for a moment because he stills. Then he repeats the words under his breath, as if he can’t really process them for some reason and has to meditate on them for a minute.

“ _Whiny bullshit_ ,” Leclerc murmurs softly, brows furrowed. “Whiny.” Lance just keeps glowering at him as he does this, his irritation bubbling ever closer to the top. Another moment passes and Lance growls quietly beneath his breath. Shit, he thinks, he’s definitely about to snap. His lips part, intent on telling Leclerc off in the worst way possible. But in that very same moment— because things are on such a steady downhill course— the words seem to finally click for Leclerc and he speaks before Lance can.

“You’re very immature for an alpha.”

Lance had honestly not been expecting _that_ — he’d expected something far more insulting, if he’s being totally honest. It genuinely bewilders him for a good solid couple minutes. During which time, Leclerc seems to get on the same page as him. About the insult being subpar at best. His stupid flawless face twists and his upper lip curls.

“And at least I can call myself a race winner, unlike you. You mediocre—!“

In the blink of an eye, before Lance himself can even really process what Leclerc’s words are making him feel, he’s crossed the motor home and is crowding Leclerc against the wall beside the door like a predator cornering its prey— while a little voice in the back of his head screams at him because this is one of those horrible _dick-move_ things he’d swore he’d never do to someone else as an alpha.

One of his hands is pushing Leclerc’s shoulder into the wall whilst the other is balled into a tight fist, knuckles pressed flat against the wood high above Leclerc’s head, resting there like it’s trying to figure out whether or not it’s going to ruin that annoyingly impeccable face. And it’s in that _exact_ position— tempers flaring and chests heaving and eyes narrowed and faces a lot closer than they really ought to be— that Seb finds them.

One hand on the doorknob and half his body still outside the motor home, Seb takes one long up-and-down look at them and does the _damndest thing_ ; he chuckles softly and says, “Have to admit, I didn’t see this one coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the response to the first chapter was unexpected to say the least. I’m not sure if anyone caught the mention of Lance being an alpha as well in the first chapter but yeah I had been debating adding some Lance to this story. And some Charles. Oh man, this thing is gonna snowball out of control, isn’t it?


	3. Just The Man For The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need to do something about Lando.”
> 
> Which is how he finds himself outside Lando’s hotel room an hour later, staring at the cream-colored wood in horror, as he listens to what he _really_ hopes is not Lando murdering the absolute shit out of someone inside.

“You need to do something about Lando.”

The words are the first thing anyone’s said to him today and they hit him so unexpectedly, like a slap to the face. Dan nearly fumbles the styrofoam cup in his hand, which _cannot_ happen under any circumstances, because that’s his coffee which is basically the only thing keeping him awake so early in the morning. It’s the one and only reason he doesn’t sleep through half of his morning responsibilities. So dropping it would be like the worst thing ever. Well, maybe second worst thing ever because Dan’s not sure he’s liking the quasi-desperate look on Andreas’ face. Like he’s begging. Begging Dan. To do something about Lando. Wait, Dan thinks, what does that even mean?

“Uh?”

And of course thats the only thing Dan can come up with. Frankly, it’s too early in the morning. And Dan’s brain isn’t firing on all cylinders yet. Which means his brain can only focus on one thing at a time. And right now, it’s choosing to focus on coffee. Not whatever’s going on with Lando. Although, if Dan’s going to take a wild shot in the dark, he thinks it’s safe to assume it has something to do with the earth-shattering— Lando’s words, not his— piece of information that Dan had decided to drop the other day, causing Lando’s life to implode— which again, implode being the word Lando had used. Dan thinks the kid is being a tad over-dramatic. But he’s not going to say that out loud. He likes life and living, thanks, and the last thing he needs is a brand new omega angry at him.

Because honestly, Dan hasn’t been around a lot of omegas in his life. He’s known one or two. But they’d been adults when he was a kid. And sure, he’s an alpha, so technically he _should_ know more about the ‘rare’ second genders. But he kind of doesn’t. When most kids were at school learning about that stuff, he was at the track learning how to perfect his driving skills. He’s not even an expert at alphas. And he _is_ one. Everyday, he learns something completely new about himself.

Like, for example, yesterday he’d been roaming the paddock and he’d caught a whiff of this _extraordinary_ scent— like the ocean and rain and bonfire and woods and coffee and the smell of old books all rolled up into one— and it had made him feel at home, content and at a sudden strange kind of peace. And that’s something he’s never experienced before. Not even when he’s _actually_ at home. So, it’s safe to say he’s not at all an expert when it comes to these things. Which, begs the question: what the hell does Andreas think he can do?

“Is that Daniel?” Zak’s voice cuts through the fog of Dan’s inner thoughts and Dan blinks a few times, looking up as Zak crosses the room and inserts himself into the conversation. “Perfect. Just the man for the job. Daniel, I know it’s not in your job description but we need you to do us a little favor, okay?” Dan’s afraid to say yes to the man but he’s also not sure he’s technically allowed to say no. The man is his boss. They both are. So Dan does the one thing he can in that moment. He nods. You know, like the indisputable _dumbass_ he is.

Which is how he finds himself outside Lando’s hotel room an hour later, staring at the cream-colored wood in horror, as he listens to what he _really_ hopes is not Lando murdering the absolute shit out of someone inside. There are sporadic thuds and crashes, like things are being thrown, and frustrated screams. But only one voice. Which is a good sign. Well, Dan thinks, depending on how he looks at it. 

Because if Lando _is_ alone and in a murderous mood, and then Dan steps into the equation, Dan might be the one getting murdered by the omega. And again, he likes life and living. So he seriously debates walking away. But then the crashing and the screaming turns into these absolutely _heart-wrenching_ sobs, and suddenly Dan wants to tear the door down with his bare freaking hands instead of run away. So he knocks.

“ _Please_ , go away!”

And, yeah, that’s definitely the wet-sounding voice of one Lando Norris. With a sharp inhale of breath, Dan knocks again, and he only feels a little bad at the frustrated half-shout that comes from inside the room. But then the door is wrenched open and Dan’s heart skips over a beat— and it’s such a long beat that for a moment Dan is afraid he’s about to go into cardiac arrest or something— because Lando looks somehow both pitiful and absolutely beautiful all at the same time.

His soft brown curls are wild, like the boy’s been running his hands through them and pulling at them for hours. His eyes, full to the brim with tears, are red and puffy like he’s been crying on and off for hours. The tip of his nose is red like he’s been using one of those goddamn _sweater-paws_ he’s always sporting to wipe at it continually. His bottom lip is swollen like he’s been biting into it to do his best to keep from screaming. And the worst part of it all? The moment his anguished gaze meets Dan’s, his bottom lip does this little wobble and somehow Dan knows he’s going to fall whole seconds before the kid’s knees buckle and Dan catches him before he can face-plant.

And then Lando is crying into his chest and Dan’s heart is doing this weird _squeezing_ sort of thing in his chest and Dan swears, in that moment, he’d do _anything_ to make the kid stop crying. He’d burn down the whole town and then some if it meant he got to see Lando smile instead of sob. He closes the door behind him with his foot and takes a seat on the bed, pulling the kid into his arms and staunchly choosing to ignore the cell phone that’s in thousands of tiny pieces on the floor. He thinks he should be feeling at least a little awkward. But he doesn’t. He feels like he’s exactly where he should be. Which is really odd because he’s pretty sure that, a few minutes ago, he’d been ready to run for the hills.

But feeling like this is where he should be does not mean he suddenly knows how to deal with an omega in this state. He doesn’t really know how to deal with an omega in _any_ state. But this one seems like a specially sucky one. So Dan does the only thing he can. He holds the boy, and runs a hand through his curls. Whispers nonsensical things into his hair. Sits there for what feels like hours. Until the kid’s calmed down. Which takes a while. And it’s during this time, that Dan realizes something he probably should’ve caught onto the moment the kid had thrown the door open; Lando smells like old books. And coffee. And rain, and the woods, and the ocean, and a bonfire, and _all the good things_.

All the things that make Dan feel the most at home he’s ever felt in his entire life. Which, is a problem, right? It feels like it should be a problem. But, in that moment, Dan really can’t bring himself to care. Like at all. Because this _feels_ right. Lando in his arms, letting Dan hold him and comfort him and assure him everything is going to be all right. Even if it’s not with words. Because it will be all right, Dan thinks. He’ll make it all right. He’ll fix it all. He’ll do anything to make Lando happy. And, that, that feels like the most _right_ thing he’s ever thought in his life. It’s almost scary how right it feels. It really shouldn’t.

But as he hears Lando’s sniffles taper off into soft snores, Dan decides that, _fuck it_ , it is what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this addition. I started and deleted it a million times. But, in Dan’s own words, it is what it is.


End file.
